


The Next Journey

by DrJLecter



Series: Asexual Will Series [1]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: #StandByMe, ALL THE FLUFF, Asexual Character, Asexual Relationship, Asexual Will, Asexuality, Asperger Syndrome, Autistic Will Graham, Character Study, Developing Relationship, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Hannibal just wants everyone to be happy, Hannigram - Freeform, Hannigram: Love is Love, Happy Ending, Holding Hands, M/M, Misunderstandings, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Post Fall, Post-Episode: s03e13 The Wrath of the Lamb, Relationship Discussions, Sappy, Will worries a lot, angsty, autistic traits, everyone is so soft, probably aromantic Will
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-21
Updated: 2016-09-06
Packaged: 2018-08-10 03:47:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7829293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DrJLecter/pseuds/DrJLecter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's something Will has been carrying around with himself all his life, something not even Hannibal knows. Will had planned on keeping it that way, but things never work out the way they're supposed to do.</p><p>It could work out, or it could destroy everything.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Collisions

**Author's Note:**

> This is an entry for the Ace Of Hannigram fest, organized to bring more awareness to the Ace and Aro orientations and it's such a great thing that I definitely needed to write something. I'm Asexual and Aromantic and these orientations are still relatively unknown to people and I'm glad Fannibals are trying to change that! 
> 
> I hope I wrote this in a way that people not on the sprectrum might get some more understanding for it and for us and people on the spectrum might find some parts of themselves in here. 
> 
> Betaed by the lovely Llew. All remaining mistakes are my own.

+++

“Hey. You need any help?”

Hannibal looked up from where he was washing the dishes and froze for a moment. He would never get over Will standing in their kitchen, relaxed and whole and _his_. He was wearing a soft and threadbare t-shirt over wide comfortable sweat pants. He looked calm and at ease, leaning against the door frame, arms at his side. 

“Yes, please, if you would dry the dishes,” he said quietly. He managed to keep his smile in check, but it was a close call. 

Will smiled in response to his not-smile and stepped next to him, their shoulders brushing. 

Their daily routine of cleaning the dishes was one of Hannibal’s favorite moments. It put them in close contact and kept Will at ease. Will loved routines and responded well to them, so Hannibal made sure to form a nice and regular schedule for their days and timed all their activities perfectly. It helped him getting accustomed to their new life and the result was the completely tranquil man at his side. 

Will glanced up when he realized he was staring, his eyes fixed somewhere around Hannibal’s cheekbones and now Hannibal couldn’t stop his smile. 

Will had relaxed far enough to mostly let down his guard around him. No more pretending. This wasn’t the hostile Will from their first meetings or the encephalitis-ridden Will and especially not the one hunting the Chesapeake Ripper. As much as he enjoyed meeting Will’s intense eyes, knowing how uncomfortable it probably was for Will, he was happy to relinquish that experience.

Over the last months Hannibal had realized he barely knew anything about Will. Not in the way he thought he did. He had known the empathy. He was familiar with the layer of darkness that had reflected his own mind in familiar shades, but the person that was behind all that had been a mystery. The few facts he’d managed to extract from him in their sessions barely scratched the surface.

It fuelled Hannibal’s obsession with getting to know all of Will. 

He watched every move, every new facet of his personality, every quirk and every gesture he made and he learned every day, taking Will in and everything he was. 

He still felt as if he didn’t know him at all. 

It was like a drug. 

Hannibal scrubbed a particularly resistant stain on one of the plates, trying to keep his heart at a steady speed. Thinking about Will always got him worked up and he’d long ago stopped trying to understand his fascination.

He knew Will was aware of his fixation and he dreaded the day he’d either tell him to stop or leavealtogether because he was too much. Too intense. Too suffocating. Too obsessive. 

Their hands brushed as Hannibal handed over the clean and dripping plate and a warm ball of sensation curled in his stomach. 

He’d cared for Will’s injuries in the beginning of their new life and he’d tried to keep up as much physical closeness as Will allowed afterwards. Every bit of contact gave him the feeling that all their suffering had been for a reason and Hannibal wasn’t above abusing the allowance as often as he thought wise. 

It was a frustrating process though and Hannibal was still trying to figure out the rules. 

There were three kinds of touches Hannibal had identified. Fleeting accidental brushes caused a slight tension of surprise sometimes, but went by without a hitch otherwise. Those small touches that could be avoided but weren’t, like right now when their fingers touched every time they passed a plate. 

Then there were deliberate touches from Hannibal’s side and they either were accepted or caused Will to freeze completely for a moment. Was it shock? Disgust? Fear? Hannibal didn’t know and he hadn’t figured out the differences between those good and bad ones. It was driving him mad. 

He would have leaned towards fear or disgust by now if it weren’t for the times when Will sought the contact himself. A hand on his shoulder when he was reaching for something, a brush against the small of his back when Will walked by… 

Hannibal watched Will intently in those moments, but there wasn’t anything specific to see. No outward reaction to his touch at all. As if it didn’t even register with Will as something special. So why the tension when Hannibal was the one initiating it?

He’d tried to apologize once, when Will had actually flinched away, hoping he would explain what was wrong, but he’d just looked contrite and said that everything was fine and no need to apologize; he’d just been surprised. 

There was always some lingering tension in Will though. Some small knot of worry he didn’t know how to soothe away. With a heavy heart, he’d decided to refrain from initiating touches with Will now and he lived for the short moments when he felt Will’s fingers on his body by his own choice. 

Once the dishes were all sorted into the various cupboards, Hannibal wiped the counters while Will leaned against the table, hands in his pockets, looking entirely awkward with whatever he wanted to say. 

Hannibal had a good guess what it was about. 

“So. About tonight.”

Hannibal smiled softly.

“Are you having second thoughts? I promise it is nothing like the social events I attended in Baltimore.” 

“No, no, it’s okay. Just. When will we leave again? 

“The fest starts at six pm so we have plenty of time left. Leaving half an hour earlier is entirely sufficient. There’s no formal dress code. Wear whatever you are comfortable with.” 

He’d told him before, but he didn’t mind giving Will the reassurance he seemed to need. It was a characteristic in people on the spectrum and it was to be expected that he would portray  
some of the behavioral traits. That Will showed him that side of himself pleased Hannibal a great deal. He watched as Will relaxed and nodded before he left the kitchen. 

Hannibal had planned on taking Will to the local festival for a while now. Will might be happy living his isolated life in their house, but as much as Hannibal loved the idea of keeping him all to himself, he was convinced that Will should go out now and then. With him. 

The thought of going out with Will, to let people see them together, delighted him immensely and Hannibal couldn’t wait. He had the feeling that Will knew his reason and was simply indulging him. It was a pleasing thought but infuriating at the same time. Will just picked all his intentions apart. There was nothing he could hide from him anymore.

With a deep sigh, he left the kitchen and wandered into their living room. Stepping over Will who was lying on the soft carpet in front of the couch, he sat down and reached for his book.

Hannibal had to admit it had taken a while before he’d gotten used to Will’s tendency to lie on the floor to read his books or tie is lures. Apparently he’d even used to work on his boat motors on the living room floor. It seemed comfortable to him and it was rare to see him sitting on the couch.

Sometimes he missed having Will next to him, feeling his movements through the cushions, his body heat. His body was touch starved and he longed for any kind of contact. Separating for the night always felt like a cut to his underused heart. 

He couldn’t help but stare now though, admiring the lean legs, narrow hips and strong back. The soft pants hugged his form like a second skin, leaving not much to the imagination about how he would look naked. 

Hannibal’s hunger for Will was all encompassing, but he’d never expected it to become physical. Nothing had ever indicated that Will was leaning that way and Hannibal had accepted that without remorse. The times for manipulation were over. 

The chance to have Will in his life every day, to talk to him, to watch him and smell him was more than he’d ever dreamt of having. He would enjoy every second of it in its fullest. He might spend the rest of his life relieving his hunger with his own hand in the shower or his bed, but his imagination was enough to satisfy him.

In the end Hannibal didn’t even open his book. He just watched Will reading his own, drinking him in, until it was time for them to get changed.

There was a low hum of anticipation in his gut. Maybe some local food, drinks and music would help Will to enjoy their evening out as much as Hannibal would. Maybe some of the tension between them would dissipate.

###

Will was a mess.

It was the first time he was supposed to leave the house to go among people for something other than a quick trip to the shops and his stomach churned. 

He looked helplessly through his wardrobe, a mix between comfortable and elegant clothes and wished for the times when he’d possessed three shirts and two pair of pants.

Will had never gone back to his simple style after he’d escaped with Hannibal. He wasn’t blind or stupid and knew he looked good in his new stuff and now that he actually had someone who enjoyed seeing him that way and someone he actually wanted to please, it hadn’t been hard to make the permanent switch. 

He still loved his soft and worn out clothes of course, but mostly kept those to the garage and his bedroom. 

In the end, he went with a dark blue button down (Hannibal had called it a cotton twill shirt and Will had been too afraid to ask) and black pants that sat perfectly and comfortably on his hips. He felt good in them and some of his tension left him. He could do this. They could leave when it got too much. Hannibal would make sure that nobody would get too close, which probably shouldn’t ease his anxiety as much as it did. 

During their time of healing and recuperating after the Dragon and the fall, Will had found that it was almost impossible to maintain the façade he’d worn for the Ripper hunt. The months of putting on that particular persona to lure in Hannibal in the most extreme way had taken a toll. He’d been too tired to hide all the tics his mind forced on him anymore. He’d simply let himself be.

Hannibal had taken it in stride as if there was absolutely nothing wrong with that and Will could have wept. He guessed that was one positive side of being with a psychiatrist. He didn’t question Will’s preference for strict daily routines or his nervous habits, nor his endless talks about fishing and lures and dogs . 

He still behaved as if Will was the best thing that had ever happened to him and wasn’t that just as ridiculous as the rest of their insane lives. 

Hannibal was still locked in his bedroom when Will made his way back downstairs. He was probably brushing his hair or straightening his trousers for the millionth time. Times like this he regretted they didn’t share a room. He would love to watch the spectacle of Hannibal getting ready for something like that. 

To be honest with himself, he had wished more than a few times that they would sleep in the same room. Will still couldn’t believe how easy it was to live with Hannibal. He’d expected they’d drive each other into a bloodbath after just a few weeks, but they fell into a comfortable routine right away. They spent all day so close to each other that it felt weirder every day to separate for the night.

The silences between them were never strained and their discussions where engaging and interesting. They had avoided some topics so far, but Will wasn’t afraid of them to come up anymore. Hannibal cooked, Will fished, Hannibal drew and read books, Will tied lures and read scientific journals, Hannibal tended the garden, Will repaired an old car in the garage. 

It was… domestic. Quiet. Peaceful. 

Entering the living room, he felt tempted to find his usual spot on the carpet, but refrained. Instead he looked through the huge glass windows towards the ocean, hands in his pockets to play with the smooth pebbles he kept there. 

Hannibal always put them back in after washing his clothes.

Will had never felt so close to someone before. Molly had been a very good friend, maybe the best he’d ever had, and she’d taught him a lot about himself. But this was different. 

This was so much more intimate without actual physical intimacy.

If Will hadn’t known that he’d loved Hannibal before, these last few months would have sealed the deal. He wanted to be close to him, feel the reassurance and stability Hannibal radiated, soak in it. 

Love had always been an abstract thing to him. He’d stayed with his father only until he was able to make a living for himself, and neither in his career in the police force nor in Quantico did he ever love someone. Alana had been an infatuation, the promise of comfort and companionship. Molly just a friend.

He saw what love did to people in the murders he investigated. The worst crimes were committed because of love. He’d never seen love as something he needed to find for himself. Maybe what he felt for Hannibal wasn’t even love. It was bigger, scarier and all consuming. More dangerous.

Will leaned forwards to press his forehead to the cool glass even though he knew Hannibal would frown at the stain he would leave. His glasses clinked against the window. Closing his eyes, he just breathed. 

Will had rarely felt the urge to touch someone, to be physically close to a person. Wanting it now confused him. How could a bunch of hormones and pheromones change things so drastically? Skin on skin contact had always made him shudder, but now he wanted things like holding Hannibal’s hand and it was such a confusing and stupid urge that he didn’t know what to do with it. 

Hannibal had nice hands. Elegant. Powerful. Sleek and graceful. He wondered what it would be to have them hold his own hands, keep him grounded and safe. 

Will was well aware that Hannibal had stopped from reaching out and it pained him. He didn’t know how to explain the tension he felt at touches, especially surprising ones. He’d started getting used to them though. He had _wanted_ to get used to them but he’d missed his chance. They were gone.

Now and then he managed to swallow his nerves and awkwardly place a hand on Hannibal’s shoulders or arms. The heat he felt through his clothes stayed with him for minutes and sometimes he still felt the phantom of Hannibal’s body under his fingertips when he was lying alone at night. 

Will frowned against the cool glass. 

He wanted to get the touches back, but he was afraid. 

He knew Hannibal loved him deeply and in every possible way and the only reason they hadn’t had sex yet, is that Will had kept up his resolve to never pretend and lie when it came to this, no matter how much Hannibal wanted it. Faking it would only kill what they had all the sooner.

It hurt to keep him at arm’s length even though he wanted to be so close, but Hannibal had taught him that one should never agree to things that didn’t contribute to one’s own happiness. 

Indulge in everything one desires, what gives happiness, and avoid what takes from it. 

Will was terrified that every inch he granted Hannibal, when it came to physical touches, would lead to something he couldn’t give him. 

He was scared Hannibal would leave. 

He didn’t know what to do and the frustration was getting to him. How do you just walk up to someone and tell them you want to hold their hand but nothing more? He snorted. 

“Is something amusing?” 

Will jerked around. Damn Hannibal and his stalking mode. 

He froze. 

Hannibal was wearing a fitted black dress shirt, last button undone, over black dress pants, but what shocked him most were the glasses. The frame was thin and silver, almost fragile and the nearly round form did something spectacular with his face. In addition to that he had his longish hair combed back and out of his face. He had barely any resemblance to Doctor Hannibal Lecter, psychiatrist from Baltimore. He looked stunning. Soft. Will want to bury himself in his arms. 

At Will’s stare, he lifted an eyebrow in amusement and Will felt embarrassment prickling across his skin. 

“Just some stupid thoughts. You ready?” 

He saw that Hannibal wanted to ask, but he just nodded. 

“I am. What about you?”

Will shrugged. “As ready as I can be.”

There was a shadow of a frown on Hannibal’s face, but he let it go and a few minutes later they sat in their car and drove towards the city.

They parked the car a bit away from the town centre to walk the last part, while the sun was still up high in the sky. It was almost uncomfortably warm. They walked through quiet alleys, close enough to each other that their shoulders nearly brushed and Will was hyper aware how close their hands were swinging on their sides. The yearning in his chest almost hurt.

Hannibal had started to tell him the history of the town, the streets and some buildings they were passing, but Will didn’t pay attention. He let the voice ground him in the here and now and focused on the road before him.

The closer they got to the festival the more people joined them on their way, laughing and talking. Nobody paid them any attention and with Hannibal’s soothing voice in his ears, Will managed to settle down a bit. 

The central marketplace itself had been transformed. There was a stage with a local band playing some traditional music, all the bars and restaurants had brought their tables and chairs out onto the wide space of the market and there were countless little food stands, offering endless supplies of delicacies and drinks. The warm smells were amazing. Fairy lights were spread along houses, trees and across the place, ready to turn everything into a colorful dreamland once the sun set. 

They stayed on the edge of the market for a while, assessing the situation, the security measures and how much police presence there was around. The odd chance of someone recognizing them was still there and Will didn’t want to risk anything. 

In the end they ventured to a small outdoor bar in the shadows of a huge tree already illuminated by lanterns and ordered some drinks. Will wanted a colorful cocktail with the whole package – fruits, straws and umbrellas sticking out of it, just to see Hannibal trying not to say anything about it. 

Will grinned as he took the first sip, while Hannibal pointedly ignored him. It was surprisingly good and strong and Will leaned back into his seat, watching the crowd in the centre. There was a small space cleared for people to dance and the atmosphere was peaceful and pleasant. 

Will realized that he was enjoying himself and threw Hannibal a quick smile. Hannibal looked about as proud as if he’d just found the proof for a theory he’d had.

He checked his watch and was surprised how long they’d already been here. It was a quarter to seven and usually Hannibal would start to serve their dinner now while Will watched the news. 

“Would you like something to eat? They have quite a selection of local delicacies here.”

Will smiled gratefully. “Yeah, sure. I could eat, especially with the amount of rum in this. I’ll wait here, okay? Surprise me.”

Will absolutely refused to leave this spot. It was out of the big crowds and perfect to observe everything with a solid wall in his back. The huge branches hung above him. 

The moment Hannibal left the table though, Will wanted to call him back. He stopped himself and cursed silently. This was so stupid. He was a grown ass man who could survive on his own. He had done so for most of his life. 

He followed Hannibal with his eyes as he made his way towards some of the grills, watching his easy movements and graceful stride. 

A young woman suddenly stumbled into him, obviously intoxicated as she apologized with a giggle, her hand on Hannibal’s arm. He’d steadied her to prevent her from falling over. The sudden searing hot flash of absolute _fury_ was completely unexpected and almost took his breath away. 

How dare she touch Hannibal and receive his touch in return. The jealousy burned bitter in his throat.

Will realized how hard he had gripped his glass and carefully put it on the table, breathing and focusing on an ant crawling across the old cracked wood. 

Hannibal was _his_. He was Will’s friend and partner or whatever the hell it was they were and nobody had the right to distract him from that. They went through too much to let anyone between them ever again. 

Before Will could decide to leave his chair, the scrape of the other chair at his table distracted him. He looked up in surprise as suddenly there was a young woman sitting there, smiling widely at him. 

“Hi!” She chirped and then started to let out a flow of words and sentences he had no chance of catching with his rudimentary knowledge of the local language. He frowned at her, trying to convey how displeased he was with her sitting at the table as if she belonged there. 

The image of her open chest cavity, gaping and bloody, flashed through his mind.

Will tuned her out and looked back to where he’d seen Hannibal last. He was gone, of course, and nowhere in sight. The girl chatted on and Will felt his patience slip. 

“Listen. I don’t understand a word you’re saying. I’m here with someone and you better be gone before he gets back.” He tried to be calm. He really did. 

He probably failed, seeing how she shut up immediately and got up with wide eyes to turn around and hurry into the crowd.

Will felt his anger rise. Why couldn’t people just leave him alone? And where the fuck was Hannibal?

“Who was that?” Will flinched as Hannibal stepped from behind him to seat himself back at their table. He carried two plates full of food smelling delicious and spicy. 

Will glanced up swiftly and saw Hannibal wearing his neutral mask, hiding whatever went on behind his radiant brown eyes. He was obviously feeling something that he didn’t want to show. It irked Will. 

“She was trying to be nice. I told her I’m here with someone,” he sniped, while pulling the plate across the table causing a loud screeching sound. Out of the corner of his eyes he saw the tension keeping Hannibal rigid.

“What, did you expect I’d leave with the first nice face talking to me as soon as you let me out of your sight?” Will asked in disbelief. He was still angry and had a hard time not showing it. Nothing of this was Hannibal’s fault though. 

Will shook his head, dropping his fork with a clatter and rubbing his hand over his thigh in agitation. 

“Okay, let me spell it out for you. I’m not intending on leaving you. Ever. Please don’t consider killing everyone who talks to me. I do the same.” He glanced down to where the woman had touched Hannibal’s arm, clenching his teeth. He tried his food to distract himself. It was good and for some reason that made it even worse. He knew he was acting irrationally. 

Will heard a slight intake of breath and wondered if Hannibal felt as overwhelmed as he did at the sudden seriousness of their conversation. He hated conflict and this was too close to it for his peace of mind and he had no idea how it got there and how to get out of there again. He stabbed a piece of meat forcefully.

“I apologize. We haven’t talked about our… arrangement.”

Will froze and looked up from the food, focusing on Hannibal’s face and eyes, swallowing his discomfort as he’d done so many times before. 

“Arrangement. Not relationship?”

Hannibal looked taken aback at that.

Will mentally replayed the last months in his head. He knew he had problems identifying what a relationship entailed, but he’d thought he’d been doing pretty well, all things considered. What had been missing? Well, besides the sex, but he’d never thought that would be such a huge deal for Hannibal in the big picture. Maybe he’d been wrong.

“I wasn't sure you would be agreeable with being labeled as being in a relationship. Your last one was a marriage with a woman.” 

Hannibal’s gaze was intense and sharp. Examining him, dissecting and calculating. Will saw his nervousness as if it was written on his forehead. 

It projected itself into Will’s head and he started to bounce his leg under the table. 

“No, Hannibal. Stop painting apocalyptic scenarios in your head.” Will rubbed his hands over his face, dislodging his glasses, suddenly so very tired. He took a deep breath, filling his lungs with the smell of food and alcohol. The condensation of his cocktail had spread out in a wet puddle around the glass and started to soak into the old wood.

“Can we leave or do you want to stay longer? I think I have had enough crowd around me for today.”

Will wondered if he and Hannibal have ever been on the same page or if they fell off the cliff into different books. Had he truly miscalculated so badly? Constructed a relationship that wasn’t there? What were they then? They were closer than mere friends, weren’t they? 

“Will. Did I do something to offend you?” There was tightness in his voice and Will wondered how long it would take before he’d ruined it all.

He looked up and his anger disappeared. Hannibal looked lost. 

“No. No, you didn’t offend me.” He swallowed. “Would it be too cliché if I say it’s me and not you?” He let out a hollow laugh. 

“Will.” He sounded reproachful now. “In my heart we’ve been in a relationship since the Dragon. I just didn’t know if you would appreciate the sentiment. I did not want to put pressure on you.”

Will swallowed the sarcastic retort he had on his tongue. It wouldn’t be helpful at all. 

Before he could answer, a child started to scream somewhere behind him and he flinched, the sound a painful stab in his ears. Suddenly the bubble around them burst and the overwhelming noises of music, children and hundreds of people tore through his head. 

“Let’s go home, please,” he pleaded to Hannibal who nodded and got up. 

Will kept his head down, his hands in his pockets, fingers playing with the pebbles, letting their smooth surface soothe his frayed nerves. He’d ruined what Hannibal had hoped to be a joyful night out and he felt awful. 

Hannibal walked a step ahead of him and it took Will a moment to realize that he did it to part the crowd and prevent anyone from bumping into him. He was ridiculously grateful and felt even worse now. He dreaded the car ride and the last hours before they’d retire to their rooms. 

The sun was about to set and one by one the fairy lights were switched on, bathing the market and roads in colorful soft lights. It looked beautiful and if Will weren’t so mentally exhausted he would have loved to stay. 

He watched Hannibal’s strong back and wondered what was going on in Hannibal’s head now. He’d said they were in a relationship. Will had thought they were in a relationship. So all should be fine now, right?

What were they even arguing about? Had they been arguing?

God, that’s why Will had avoided relationships for most of his life. This was too complicated and only ended in heartbreak. Maybe they really should only be friends and keep it simple.

+++


	2. Aftermaths

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the evening's abrupt ending Will plans on finally having The Talk with Hannibal, but nothing ever works out the way it's supposed to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second chapter of my ace/aro fic. Some more angst, I'm sorry. I will repay you with fluff in the last one XD
> 
> Betaed again by the wonderful [Llewcie](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Llewcie/pseuds/Llewcie). All remaining mistakes are my own.

+++

 

The drive was quiet and Will tried to wade into the stream to flee the uncomfortable silence, but his worry anchored him in the car like a heavy weight.

Hannibal concentrated on the road, his hands not overly tight on the wheel, but not wholly relaxed either. Will realized that it was the first time he had seen him anything but entirely at ease and he was the one causing it.

He opened this mouth a few times, but in the end he decided to wait until they were in their sitting room, preferably with a whiskey in his hand.

What he hadn’t counted on was that Hannibal might not want to talk to him and retire to his room instead.

It left Will standing in the middle of their living room, staring up the stairs where Hannibal had vanished, feeling entirely lost. He needed to repair this. He needed to talk to Hannibal and find a way to close the distance that suddenly gaped between them like a chasm.

They were too in sync with everything else, to let one thing separate them for good.

That’s at least what Will told himself as he took one of the bottles of whiskey they had stored out of their cabinet and settled on the couch in front of the fireplace. He didn’t switch on any lights and soon he sat in darkness, the pale moonlight coming in through the wide windows the only light source helping him to find the glass when he poured himself a new shot.

He had no idea how late it was when the bottle slipped out of his fingers and landed on the carpet with a dull thud. Blinking in confusion, he realized that he must’ve fallen asleep on the couch. He sat up with a groan, a dull throb behind his eyes indicating the hangover he’d likely have soon.

The sudden blinding light of the torchiere in the corner made him flinch and cover his eyes with a curse. After a few seconds when his head no longer threatened to burst into a million splinters, he peaked out between his fingers and saw Hannibal standing next to the lamp, staring at him.

His hair was tousled and soft. He was wearing a black silk robe over his sleep pants, no shirt underneath and for a moment Will stared at the chest hair he could see, before he realized what he was doing.

He swallowed the urge to ask why he was up at this hour, because it would be a stupid question. He knew why. Hannibal had probably known that he hadn’t followed him up and never had gone to bed.

With a heavy sigh he picked up the empty bottle to put it on the small table in front of him.

“I’m sorry I ruined the trip. You were looking forward to it so much.” He was proud that he seemed sober enough to not slur.

His words finally brought movement to Hannibal who left the corner he was standing in and sat in the armchair next to the couch. Will felt the distance acutely.

“You didn’t ruin anything.” He hesitated there and Will knew it was now or never.

“I can’t have sex with you,” he blurted.

The silence that followed that statement was enough to let Will die a million times in his head.

“That…. That was not the way I wanted to start this conversation. I’m sorry.” Will groaned and plopped down on the couch, hiding his face in the pillows.

“Will,” Hannibal started and he sounded so confused and maybe even hurt that Will almost started laughing uncontrollably. He was still way too drunk to have this conversation and he was afraid he would fall into hysteria if he thought too long about everything that could go wrong.

“Maybe start with what brought this on? What made you so angry today?”

Will wanted to suffocate himself on the pillow he currently pressed his face into, but he figured that wasn’t an option.

With a sigh, he sat up and hugged the pillow to his chest as he slid down to the floor, the familiar solid ground beneath him bringing comfort as he pulled up his knees to press the pillow to his chest with them, his arms wrapped around both.

“I was jealous.” He finally said.

Hannibal’s pale eyebrows rose upwards and Will saw his thoughts returning to the evening, replaying every second to look for something that could have caused Will’s jealousy. Finally he tilted his head in consideration.

“The woman that ran into me?” he asked, doubt in his voice.

“She touched you… and you touched her,” Will almost snarled.

He picked at a corner of the pillow he was clutching, staring into the dark empty fireplace, the fury returning for a few moments.

Before Hannibal had the chance to react, he continued. He needed to get this out now, or he probably never would until it would fester into something huge and ugly and poisonous.

“I know I’m… I haven’t reacted well to touches. To your touches. But that’s got nothing to do with you. It’s always been that way. It always made me uncomfortable when people got too close and personal. It just never bothered me all that much before.”

He swallowed the painful lump in his throat.

“But it does now? Bother you?” He sounded so unbelievable hopeful Will had trouble breathing for a moment.

He turned his head a bit and saw that Hannibal had leaned forward, elbows on his knees, hands clasped in front of him, his full attention on Will.

It was almost like being back in his therapy sessions in Baltimore and Will ignored the bad associations it brought and instead embraced the familiar feeling of being seen and _understood_.

“Yes. I want to touch you. I never hated it when you touched me. I just didn’t know how to deal with it at first. It’s… it’s fine when I know it’s coming, when I have time to prepare myself for it.”

He bit his lip and pushed forward.

“I want to hold your hand,” he hesitated, “If that’s okay?”

Instead of replying, Hannibal slid off his chair and sat next to Will, not quite touching. With a gentle look on his face, he lifted his hand and waited for Will to untangle his clenched fingers from the pillow. He felt very warm suddenly and his heart was beating heavily in his chest, pressing almost painfully against his ribcage as he reached out.

As soon as their hands and fingers finally touched, he almost flinched back again, the warm skin such a foreign feeling. When he at last tangled his fingers with Hannibal’s, his breath left him in a rush and he almost let out a sob. He held on for dear life and Hannibal gripped back just as tight.

Will didn’t know how long they sat like that, but he felt himself gradually relaxing and only then did he understand how tense he’d actually been. He pulled their linked hands to his chest, pressing the back of Hannibal’s to where his heart was beating and slowly unclenched his iron grip.

“Thank you,” he said around the lump in his throat, his eyes fixed on the edge of the glass table in front of him.

“There is nothing to thank me for, Will. I will give you whatever you want, whatever you need. Always.” His voice was calm, but Will could hear the wonder in it. Hannibal was probably staring at him, eyes wide and soft.

Will’s heart gave a painful thud.

“I’m…” he started and faltered. Hannibal gave his hand a reassuring squeeze and Will’s breath hitched.

“I don’t know if what I’m feeling for you is love. I don’t know how _love_ is supposed to feel like. I just know that I’ve never felt anything like this for anyone in my life before. I thought you should know.”

Will heard Hannibal take a deep shuddering breath and he finally turned his head to look at the man next to him. Hannibal’s eyes looked wet as he gazed at him, tears threatening to spill over. He opened his mouth, but for a moment nothing came out. Will thought that Hannibal still had no idea how to deal with so many emotions at once.

“Will,” he swallowed hard. “I think love is not a sufficient expression for what I am feeling for you. I am overwhelmed day by day by how much you’ve come to mean to me.”

“Is it still inconvenient?” Will couldn’t help the remark, but he smirked, to take out the sting.  
Hannibal smiled broadly at that, showing off his crooked teeth which shouldn’t fit his face as well as they did.

“No. It is not. It couldn’t be further from the truth now.” He paused for a moment, as if gathering his thoughts. “Will you elaborate on your statement from the beginning? I would never force a physical relationship on you, Will. I don’t expect anything in that regard; I never have. I had hoped you would know that.”

He sounded truly concerned and Will felt bad.

“I know. Hannibal, I know.” He rubbed across his face with his free hand.

“It’s just… with touch comes expectations. Men’s touch is always leading to sex. Women touch more and in the end it often leads to sex as well. My inability to read body language or social situations well prevents me from seeing where things are heading, so I get surprised if things suddenly turn sexual, and… it’s never been something good for me. Never something I needed and I’ve promised myself I wouldn’t pretend with you. I can’t give you sex. I’m sorry.”

Will felt the words in his chest as a heavy weight. He leaned back against the couch, letting his head fall down to the cushions. He felt light headed with the last bits of alcohol working through his system and the topic put heavy pressure around his ribcage.

Hannibal’s silence felt weighted. Considering. Will waited for his verdict and he wondered if it would be over now. If Hannibal would leave because he couldn’t live with the temptation in one house without ever having it fulfilled.

“You’re asexual,” he stated.

Will’s head snapped back up and he stared at Hannibal with wide eyes. The face Hannibal made told him that right now countless puzzle pieces that had been flying around in his head suddenly found their place in the picture that is Will Graham. 

“I shouldn’t be surprised, really. Why am I surprised. You’re a psychiatrist.”

Hannibal squeezed his hand.

“Will. This is absolutely nothing to be ashamed of. Please.”

“I’m not ashamed!” he snapped. “I’m scared. Scared that you want more than I can give you. Scared of this…these things… I’ve never wanted before and don’t know how to navigate until I get to a point where it’s too far, too much of everything and you will…” his voice broke. “I can’t lose you.”

Will felt choked up and suddenly they were too close and he let go of Hannibal’s hand and jumped up to walk to the huge windows, his breath unsteady and shaking.

He was tired and exhausted in all possible ways, his eyes burned and his head hurt. He hugged the pillow harder to his chest, staring out into the darkness of the night. His old shoulder injuries started to ache and twinge and he thought it fitting for this day. In the reflection he could see Hannibal getting up from the floor to sit on the couch, deep in thought.

“Will? You will never lose me. I will be happy with whatever you’re able to give me.”

He scoffed at his reflection.

“You weren’t all that happy these last weeks and don’t pretend otherwise.”

He saw him hesitate and Will felt some bitter spark of triumph in his gut.

“I was concerned about you. You seemed to be unhappy and tense in a way I haven’t seen since we fled. I didn’t know what reason there was and how to fix it.”

“There’s nothing to be fixed.” He sounded hollow to his own ears.

“I know that, Will. I want you to be happy. I _need_ you to be happy here with me. I want to give you what you are missing. Like holding hands. We can do that whenever you feel the urge and we will stop when it has passed. Nothing more. We can take one step at a time and stop whenever you feel uncomfortable.”

Will closed his eyes and swayed forward, his forehead back against the cool glass. It just sounded so easy when Hannibal said it like that.

He was tired of being weary and on edge.

“Can we talk about this tomorrow? I’m…”

“Yes, of course. We’re both tired.” Hannibal got up and stroked with his hands over his robe. A nervous gesture as much as Hannibal possessed the ability to show nervousness. “We can work this out, Will. We have managed to get through so much; we will manage this as well.”

Will sighed deeply and turned around. Hannibal looked as tired as Will felt.

He just stood there for a few moments, staring at Hannibal until the man nodded and turned around to make his way up the stairs.

With slow and heavy steps, he started walking. He unfolded his arms from around the pillow to drop it reluctantly back onto the couch. He felt cold suddenly and shivered. In a fit of restlessness he put all pillows into order and cleaned the bottle away, washed the glass and put it into the cupboard. When he was done, he barely managed to stay upright. Just sleeping for as long as possible sounded like heaven right now.

In his room. Alone.

He dragged himself up the stairs, one hand on the smooth wooden handrail, on the other side his fingertips slid over the white wall and his heart got heavier with every step that brought him closer to Hannibal’s door. He’d had every intention of walking past it, but then he saw that the door wasn’t closed and a soft shine of light fell across the hallway.

Will stopped and stared at the sliver of light, mind blank for a moment.

His heart started to beat heavily again.  
This was an invitation. A suggestion. A question.

Will took a deep breath. This was Hannibal. Not some stranger. He could explain to Hannibal how he wanted to not be alone, that he missed someone breathing in the same room, another body. Just someone being _there_.

His stomach gave an uncomfortable lurch when he stepped closer and reached out for the door, but Will swallowed hard and gently pushed.

The sight he found made him smile.

Hannibal had probably intended to wait for him, but he’d already fallen asleep. He was still wearing his robe and slippers, but he was lying sideways on top of the covers, breathing deeply and relaxed, the bedside lamp throwing a gentle orange light over his prone form. His face was soft and lax, but there were lines of worry still between his eyes.

Will hesitated.

There was an entire side of the bed unoccupied as Hannibal was lying close to the edge, maybe even on purpose. He could just go and lie down on the other side and sleep. Hannibal would wake up to him in the morning and be happy about it. They could go on from there, wherever it might go.

Decision made, Will felt some huge weight fall off him. He trusted Hannibal with his life, so maybe now he should trust him with this, too.

With determined steps, he rounded the bed and carefully put a knee to the edge. The dip in the mattress was stronger than expected and he knew immediately that Hannibal was awake now. With held breath he waited, frozen to the spot.

But Hannibal stayed still, breathing regular and deep, no sign or twitch indicating that he was awake.

Will knew it was fake, but he was endlessly thankful to not have to face him right now.

After a few more moments of waiting, he finally crawled into the bed the rest of the way and placed his head on one of the soft pillows.

The tension that had coiled in his heart and body suddenly unraveled and with a quiet shuddering breath he went boneless.

For the first time in his life he truly believed that this part of himself could be shared with someone else and he felt a smile stretch across his face.

The last thing he consciously noticed was the light being switched off, then he was gone, falling into a deep and exhausted sleep.

+++


	3. Convalescence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "The first thing Will became aware of was his pounding headache. The second was Hannibal trying to slowly leave the bed without waking him."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last chapter to this fic! It was quite a challenge and a trip into my own mind. Not always the nicest thing to do XD
> 
> Check out the other submissions of the fest on [Hannigramacethetic](http://hannigramacethetic.tumblr.com/)!
> 
> Betaed again by my dear Llewcie. All remaining mistakes are my own.

+++

The first thing Will became aware of was his pounding headache. The second was Hannibal trying to slowly leave the bed without waking him.

He was wide awake in a second.

Will knew if he let the man out of his sight right now, breakfast would be an intensely awkward affair with both of them trying to pretend nothing had happened.

Or. Will would pretend nothing had happened and Hannibal would follow his lead.

With a swift movement, he gripped Hannibal’s wrist, holding him tighter than probably necessary.

Hannibal froze and turned his head. Late morning sunlight, bright and strong, caressed his face, illuminating some creases on his cheek where the pillow had been pressed into the skin. His hair was falling into his face. He looked warm, inviting and open.

“Stay,” Will mumbled, throat dry and raw after the whiskey last night. He winced at the sound, his head not happy with the noise and effort of speaking.

After a moment’s hesitation, Hannibal nodded and then placed himself back on his spot in the bed, this time turned to the other side, so he could face Will.

They both were as they had gone to bed, above the covers, Hannibal in his robe and slippers, Will in the clothes he’d worn to the market, rumpled and skewed. They must make an amusing picture and Will smiled softly, his hand still wrapped around the warm wrist.

Hannibal relaxed into the sheets again as a response to Will’s smile.

“Good morning, Will.”

“Mornin’,” he mumbled, pressing his face into the pillow. He was lying on his front, the comforter underneath him. He must have been really exhausted, as he usually wasn’t able to sleep without at least a thin sheet covering him. He felt exposed now and wished he could draw some blankets up to his ear.

“Do you need water and pain killers?” Hannibal asked, amusement curling around the hushed words.

Will tightened his hold on the wrist to prevent any idea of getting up to get the mentioned items. He shook his head slightly. His gaze fell down to the contact between them. Hannibal’s right hand was lying on the sheets, pliant and soft, fingers a little bent, entirely unconcerned by the hand gripping his wrist.

Taking a deep breath, Will slowly released his grip and turned his hand, moving it upwards until their fingers touched and then intertwined them carefully.

It still felt foreign and almost overwhelming. The warmth of skin, the roughness of calluses, bones under skin, tendons and sinews moving under his fingers and his palm. 

“About what we talked about last night…,” he started. With a swallow, he tried to moisten his dry mouth. “Maybe it’s better if you ask questions. It’s hard to put into words what just has been a part of myself for so long and you… you know what questions to ask. To help you understand.”

Hannibal gave a small hum.

“I do have questions,” he started, voice gentle and soft, “but knowing your orientation has already cleared up a great many of them. What is left now is discussing your boundaries and wishes. I do not want to make you uncomfortable in any way, but there are things you want. Things I can give you with clearly given restrictions beforehand.”

He hesitated there for a moment and Will had a hard time breathing.

“Would it be alright if I kiss your hand, for example?” He raised his eyes from where they had been fixed on their hands and Will met his gaze carefully. Hannibal’s eyes were shining with countless emotions and Will had trouble deciphering even one of them; it was just too much.

He let his eyes drop to Hannibal’s lips, the gentle slope of the cupid’s bow, the plush jut of his lower lip. They looked soft. Gentle. Hiding the sharp lying teeth just behind them.

Will nodded, unable to form any words.

Immediately Hannibal pulled their linked hands to his face, taking a deep breath of his skin, before he closed his eyes and pressed a soft and fleeting kiss to the back of his hand. It was warm and dry and Will felt moved and embarrassed at the strength of feelings he evoked in the man lying next to him.

After what felt like minutes, Hannibal opened his eyes, tears making them shine in the light.

“Was that acceptable?”

He sounded hoarse, and Will smiled. Hannibal smiled back and pressed his face into the pillow, avoiding Will’s gaze in apparent embarrassment. It was so adorable that Will’s heart fluttered lightly in his chest.

“Yeah, that was good. I can deal with hand kisses it seems.”

Hannibal shifted as if he couldn’t keep his body still with all the feelings tormenting him.

“Have you had other kisses you didn’t like?” He sounded harmlessly curious and Will knew if he dropped names right now, Hannibal would start collecting recipes in his head. It warmed his heart.

Will was tempted to tell him he’d liked Alana’s kiss, but the woman was already on Hannibal’s list and he didn’t want to put the spotlight back on her.

“Well,” he licked his lips and watched Hannibal track the movement.

Will shifted to his side slowly, careful not to dislodge their hands. The memories of all of his kisses left him cold. Alana’s kiss was a confusing mess in his head, muddled by the effects the encephalitis had had on his brain at that time. The others only left a slight taste of regret of having wasted people’s time.

“Usually kisses lead to things I don’t want, so it’s hard for me to relax into them and enjoy them. Always dreading what comes next. Then there are of course simply bad kissers. Too much tongue, too much spit, too demanding,” Will pulled a face in disgust at the memories.

“There weren’t many though. No worries,” Will smirked.

For a moment they were quiet, just lying there, breathing, each one lost in their thoughts.  
Will’s head was still throbbing, but it was bearable, the soft salty smell of the ocean and the weak breeze moving their curtains helping against the insistent pounding. 

 

He let his eyes wander over Hannibal’s relaxed form, the place where his robe had fallen open, partly showing his strong chest, covered in grey fluff.

For a second, he wondered how it would feel under his fingertips, but he shoved that thought away. This was complicated enough without him wanting to actually touch Hannibal’s body because he wanted to sate his curiosity.

After a few more moments Will withdrew his hand from Hannibal’s gentle grip and turned back on his stomach and hugged the pillow to his face, blocking out some of the bright rays of sunshine. Turning halfway back, he blinked with his eye not mashed into the pillow at Hannibal, who still stared at him as if he wasn’t sure Will being in his bed wasn’t a hallucination.

“Do you experience arousal?”

Will huffed a laugh, rubbing his face against the soft fabric.

“I do. Sometimes. Rarely. It’s probably nothing compared to what you feel.” He bit his lip in thought. He’d taken probably more time than he should thinking about how to explain this to someone in case the question would ever come up.

Hannibal was the first to ever ask.

“I have a libido, but it’s weak. I experience arousal when my body gets stimulated, but it takes time and effort and it’s solely physical. It doesn’t cause any emotion in me besides a slight annoyance.”

Will frowned, deep in thought.

“You know that weird state when you have an appetite, but you’re not really hungry? You want to eat something, but it’s not urgent and you don’t really know what you’re hungry for and nothing in your fridge or pantry appeals to you? It happens every other month and for the longest part of my life, I didn’t even know what I was feeling and it was easily ignored most of the times. I can’t even remember when I finally realized what to do to make that feeling go away. Since then I masturbate now and then to get rid of the prickling under my skin.”

Will shrugged, trying not to apologize for something he had no control over.

“I never think of people when doing it. It’s nothing sexual for me, more like scratching an irritating itch, or getting rid of tension to fall asleep more easily.”

Hannibal nodded slowly, filing all the information away, probably comparing it to everything he’d ever read about it. No judgment, no disgust, no outwards reaction of repulsion.

Will let out the breath he hadn’t known he was holding and he followed the impulse to reach for Hannibal’s hand again to squeeze it carefully.

“You’ve put a lot of thought into this.”

He snorted.

“I didn’t for the longest time, but at some point it’s just something that can’t be ignored. This society is sex crazy and I am just… so _confused_ by everything. Why is it necessary to put adverts for a job at a butchery up that shows a girl in a bikini carrying a huge chunk of meat on her shoulder*? Why does an advert for pizza look like half a porn movie? Why is every billboard ever on the side of a road basically just naked flesh? Of course I started thinking about it at some point. I was wondering if I am the only person in the whole world who thought this was _weird_.”

Will realized he’d become loud and forceful, gripping Hannibal’s hand tight enough that it must hurt.

“Sorry,” he muttered, hiding his face in the pillow.

There was a careful touch on his shoulder and he looked back up.

“Don’t be sorry. I know what you mean, but I can’t imagine how it must be for you, to feel so out of place and pushed to the sideline.”

Will sighed. “It’s just another thing on the list of what sets me apart from everyone else around me. It’s okay.”

Hannibal shook his head.

“It is not. Will. I want you to feel comfortable with me at all times. You can touch me freely, in whatever capacity you want and need and I will never push for more. I am entirely content with whatever you can give me. Your presence in my life and this house is more than enough to make me happy for the rest of my life.”

He looked so intense and earnest that Will had to swallow and look away. He knew it was true. He could read it in every line of Hannibal’s face and it almost choked him.

“I don’t… I don’t want to lead you on. I don’t know when touches become signals for more. I don’t realize when the way I touch can be read as more than comfort and familiarity and turns into something sexual.”

“ _Will_.” Hannibal leaned forward, closing some of the distance between them. Will looked back up, meeting the searing gaze for a moment. 

“I am aware of your orientation. After everything you’ve told me now, if I ever mistake your actions as sexual advances towards me, you are allowed to correct that mistake. By all means you deem necessary.”

The sharp image of a shiny blade flashed through his mind, covered in dripping blood as it glided through soft flesh. He shuddered.

“Okay,” he swallowed hard. “Okay. It’s… it will take some time for me to process this. To take it for granted.”

Hannibal smiled a brilliant smile. Joy was radiating from him in waves.

“We have all the time in the world,” he breathed.

Will nodded, a hard lump lodged in his throat as emotions threatened to overwhelm him. Will’s body was tingling with all sorts of confusing and conflicting urges and his hand, still held by Hannibal, twitched.

In the end, he went with the strongest urge. Taking his hand out of Hannibal’s, he reached forward, his arm extending across the empty space. He placed his hand on Hannibal’s shoulder and drew himself across the mattress until their bodies were close enough to touch.

He wrapped his arm around the man and leaned against his chest for a hug so similar to the one on top of the bluff that it felt like the déjà vu like a punch to the gut. 

Hannibal had frozen stiff and held his breath for a moment, until he carefully placed his arms around Will’s shoulder. Before he could ask, Will nodded. 

“It’s fine.”

The words had barely left his mouth before Hannibal tightened his hold, crushing him to his chest. His face was pressed in Will’s wild locks and he could feel his hitching breath. 

Will loved the pressure, the strength in it. He felt as if Hannibal was holding him together at his seams as he threatened to fall apart. 

After some moments, Will felt the pleasure turn into embarrassment as he realized how tightly he was clinging to Hannibal. He knew after embarrassment came self doubt and then self hate, so Will let him go again quickly, his heart thundering in his chest as he withdrew to his side of the bed.

He looked up to see the wonder in Hannibal’s face, the sheer disbelief about Will hugging him like that for the second time in his life.

Will smiled gently, promising himself that he would hug him now as often as he could.

“All the time in the world. Yes.”

+++

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *this actually exists, and all I can think of is...why... D:  
> 


	4. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okay, okay you got me. I couldn't stop writing this, so here's a short Epilogue from Hannibal's POV, because reasons.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Betaed again by [Llewcie](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Llewcie/pseuds/Llewcie). Thanks for cheering me on all the way through this :D
> 
> All remaining mistakes are my own.

**Several Months Later**

+++

Hannibal was spread out on their chaise lounge, a cool glass of fresh homemade lemonade in his hand, watching Will training their recent addition to the household down in the garden. With the patience of a saint, he repeated the lesson of _Sit_ and _Stay_ over and over again. 

Will had named the dog Hercules, which was a ridiculous name, but Hannibal hadn’t expected anything less. The dog, _Hercules_ , seemed to lose interest in the training and Will sensed it, ending their lesson on a high note with some more treats before the dog could start to associate training as something bad and bothersome.

These last months had been a lesson to both of them as well. They had reorganized the way they treated each other in a fundamental way and Hannibal had been fascinated by the process and the results.

Will made his way through the garden towards him now, dog at his heels. He was barefoot and wore only some shorts, grass stained and dirty. Hannibal’s heart gave a heavy thud as Will looked up and grinned at him, sweat glistening on his skin, hair plastered wetly to his face and neck.

He was beautiful.

Hannibal picked up the second glass from the small table and held it out as Will made his way up the few stairs. Their fingers brushed and Hannibal smiled.

Will sighed his thanks and drank with a relieved sigh, standing close enough that Hannibal just had to reach out to get a hold of the hand hanging by his side, but he refrained, petting the dog instead. Will thought his sweat was disgusting and didn’t want Hannibal to be in contact with it. It had been an eye opening moment. It seemed Will didn’t like body fluids in general, at least if it wasn’t blood covering them after slaying a dragon.

Will would come to him after he’d showered, clean and fresh and feeling better about himself.

They would sit here, watching the sun set over the ocean and holding hands. Hannibal would trace the veins with his thumb gently while Will petted Hercules with his other hand. Peaceful.

He couldn’t wait for it.

Hannibal hadn’t thought he could get any happier, but he’d been proven wrong. He wondered if there could be something like too much happiness. 

They slept in the same bedroom now, each on their respective side of the bed, letting each other’s breath lull them to sleep. Sometimes Will snuggled up to him, pressing himself against Hannibal’s back with his arm around his waist, soft breath against the back of his neck and Hannibal would create a whole room in his mind palace for each of those nights. They’d tried it the other way around, but Will had been unable to find sleep that way, too conscious of Hannibal’s movements and breath. 

Hannibal was all too happy to switch positions and let Will embrace him, leaving him the freedom to let go whenever he needed. He’d never slept better.

Will put down the empty glass on the table, placing it directly back into the wet spot left by the moist glass, before he went inside to shower and get ready for dinner later. Hannibal watched him enter the house and felt the loss of his presence acutely.

It had taken a while after that fateful night before Will had allowed himself to test their new agreement. Hannibal hadn’t pressured him, just waiting for Will to make his first move.

He still cherished that wonderful moment when he’d been standing in their living room to watch the rain pouring down on the other side of the window. Will had come up to him and they had stood there for a long time, quietly observing the puddles forming outside, the fire crackling behind them and suddenly Will’s fingers had touched his hand and the palms fitted together as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

They hadn’t mentioned it afterwards, but Hannibal would forever keep that moment in his mind, the way he’d struggled with breathing for a few moments, his stomach forming a nervous knot as he was trying to be as unobtrusive as possible, so Will didn’t find a reason to pull away.

From that moment on, Will seemed to realize that Hannibal had indeed been serious about what he’d said. At least once or twice a day, he would find a moment to catch Hannibal’s hand, sometimes only to give him a quick squeeze, other times to hold onto him as if his life depended on it. He wished he could read Will’s mind in those moments, to see what made him so desperate all of the sudden. It usually didn’t last long before Will went on with his daily business as if nothing had happened at all.

Sometimes, when Hannibal was cooking, Will would come up behind him and plaster himself against Hannibal’s back, arms around his middle, face pressed between his shoulder blades. He wouldn’t talk and wouldn’t hinder him in his movements, just hanging on, breathing into his shirt.

Hannibal was reluctant to admit that he felt entirely weak and helpless in those moments, barely able to concentrate and go on with his tasks. He wanted to just stand there forever, feeling Will’s arms around him, holding onto him. He wondered in those moments, which one of them needed the contact more.

Hannibal shook himself out of his introspective mood.

Hercules had found a place right in front of his chaise, happily panting, while Hannibal wondered how to get up without stepping on the spread out canine.

Will walked out of the house in that moment and Hannibal breathed in the smell of soap and clean skin and Will.

He walked towards one of the chairs and Hercules jumped up to greet him. With a curt “no” and the pointing of a finger he managed to stop him in his tracks and the dog dropped down on his behind. With a smile Will knelt down and rewarded him with lots of cooing noises and scratches behind his ear.

“If you keep this up, I will get jealous of him soon,” Hannibal said and only after the words had left his mouth he realized how it might come across.

Will looked up with a smirk playing around his lips.

“You want to get scratched behind your ears?”

Hannibal refused to take back his words and back down from the challenge.

“Maybe I do.”

Will’s smirk fell away at his earnest face and tone, their eyes meeting for a long moment. He didn’t look spooked which Hannibal had feared. He could have taken it in all the wrong ways and as an accusation, but Will just looked considering.

He finally got up from his crouch, stepping around the small table to stand at the foot of the chaise lounge, letting his gaze wander up and down Hannibal’s body.

Hannibal waited, barely breathing and his heart picking up speed as Will considered what he would do now.

After what felt like eternity, Will seemed to steel himself, taking a deep breath and a moment later Hannibal found himself pressed into the cushions by a heavy body on top of his own.

Will wriggled and shifted until he’d found a comfortable position, his head on Hannibal’s shoulder, chest against chest, an arm slung around his torso and his legs parallel to his own. His curls were tickling his throat and cheek and Hannibal tried to remember how to breathe. Will must have felt how hard Hannibal’s heart was beating against his ribs.

This was different from their nightly hugs. This was… more intense.

“Breathe, Hannibal.” Will sounded amused. And then, “Is this okay? Should I stop? Am I…,” he sounded unsure suddenly and tensed, not knowing how to phrase it, but Hannibal knew what he meant. He was afraid he was getting too close to the border of making things sexual.

Hannibal finally took a deep breath, lifting Will up with the strength of his lungs under his ribs.

“No, it’s fine. Do not worry,” he sounded faint and for a moment he resented this weakness.

Will relaxed gradually and after a few moments he lifted his hand and placed it on Hannibal’s throat, fingers gliding over his skin until they were behind his ear and gently played with the shorter hair he found there.

Hannibal closed his eyes against the feelings that threatened to burst his heart.

“Like this?” Will’s voice was small, but full of amusement.

With another deep breath, Hannibal worked his arm free where Will’s body had pressed it against the back of the lounge and wrapped it around Will’s back, holding him tight.

“Thank you, Will.”

The words came from deep within his soul, full of reverence and love and looking back at his life he couldn’t regret a single thing, because everything he had done, everything that had happened, all their suffering and pain, had lead them to this point, where Will laid on top of him, carefree, sleepy and soft.

Hannibal closed his eyes and relaxed.

Dinner could wait for once.

The world could wait.

+++

**Author's Note:**

> I put so much of myself into this fic that I was close to despairing. Turns out it's very difficult to write if it's not just some character, but a character you're filling with your own experiences. I am happy how it turned out, but goddamn, this was hard work.


End file.
